


Pirates of the Highest Breed

by Songbird_Concoctions



Series: MuffinLance is an enabler [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Autistic Zuko (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Healer Zuko (Avatar), I've forgotten how to tag, Inspired by Salvage - MuffinLance, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parental Hakoda (Avatar), This Is Fine, Zhao (Avatar) Is An Asshole, and casually commit treason, so he'll just love and support this water tribe crew, zuko sees he isn't wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbird_Concoctions/pseuds/Songbird_Concoctions
Summary: Admiral Zhao is too eager to hunt down missing prince Zuko and tell him he's to be executed, for Hakoda's taste.Based off Muffinlance's Salvage
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Zhao & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: MuffinLance is an enabler [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184237
Comments: 16
Kudos: 384





	Pirates of the Highest Breed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Salvage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116591) by [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance). 



> Content Warning: non-graphic violence and blood, brief descriptions of stimming and sensory overload.

Zuko rubbed a corner of the medical journal between his fingers. The well-used scroll, scratchy-soft against his finger tips, barely distracted him from the sounds above his head. He watched Seal Jerky’s ears twitch at every clash of steel or grunt of pain and felt like his own were copying the movement. He had caught glimpses of the ships before he was sent below deck and now their hulls were blocking the portholes on either side of the crew cabin. They were made of plated fire nation steel and bore the mark of one recently appointed admiral. They were freshly cleaned and looked uniform in a way the  _ Wani _ could never achieve with how long it had been left to accrue rust. Not without replating half the hull, at least.

“If you’re not going to read it, don’t rip that scroll. That’s not so easily replaced, brat,” Kustaa said from his bunk. Zuko let the journal slip shut and placed it carefully on the floor, instead kneading the fabric of his pants and trying not to attribute the sounds of fighting to either fire or water crews. Not that he could do anything about, sitting stuck down there like an idiot. Not that it mattered in the long run. The fire nation-  _ his _ nation would win, and he would go home

(except he was still banished, wasn’t he?).

Before he even knew why, Zuko was on his feet, arms raised, heat twisting past them and flaring briefly in the air. Kustaa stood up seconds later and Zuko realized he was in a fire bending stance against a faceless fire nation soldier.

The soldier wanted to ruin the  _ Akhlut’s _ water supply. Kustaa readjusted his grip on his knife to something somehow  _ worse _ and Seal Jerky was a yapping and growling knee high puppy and then Zuko was grabbing the soldier by the arm and dragging him up the stairs because  _ the fire nation would kill them all anyway so there’s no need for that. _

The deck was awash with chaos and blood and water pooling from overturned buckets. The sun reflected off waves and got in his eyes and the sea sprayed his face and blades on armor screeched and the sound the smell the noise was too much, it was  _ too much and they were bleeding why was there so much blood, so much on everyone, he couldn’t see who was cut and who was cutting but he could smell the burning- _

A hand was on his arm so suddenly Zuko flinched but it was just the soldier, emerging from his blind spot with a weird look on his face but he guided Zuko around the fighting to the smaller of the fire nation ships, a flagship, he could make out, and shouted over,

“Captain! I have the prince Zuko of Sozin’s line, he was being held captive!” And then there was the shouting and scuffling of a command chain having  _ no clue _ what to do with the current situation, which didn’t make sense because weren’t they looking for him? The  _ Akhlut _ wasn’t too far from where he fell, why wouldn’t they expect to find him? Unless Zhao…

Would Zhao’s pettiness reach so far?

Zuko glanced behind him at the fighting but he couldn’t see as many of the crew as he knew there should be and too many of them were looking at him instead of where they should be in the  _ middle of a fight _ and Toklo, Toklo spun away from a soldier not quickly enough and his elaborate hair (he said he  _ didn’t need to  _ redo it before the battle) was burning and fire was creeping at the edge of his war paint and was reaching his face and- Zuko grabbed forward and the fires quenched and now Toklo was facing him with a look of thanks but there was still a fire nation soldier behind him, one whose helmet was facing him in way that felt too much like the chief had when he first questioned him or how father had all the times he ever messed up in court or how-

A new command came from the deck above and behind him and Zuko turned to face Zhao.

“Restrain them!”

=========

Admiral Zhao surveyed the pitiful galley before him. Her deck was sopping wet like the crew didn’t have the competence or prudency to keep their ship clean. Even her sails were sodden, but it wouldn’t matter. The ship would be aflame within the hour.

His marines had gathered the crew, if you could even call them that, in the middle of the deck. Mostly. Most were having their hands tied (no point sending good cuffs to the bottom of the ocean) but one or two could not stand and instead lay bleeding in the general vicinity. Center front at his feet was his nation’s own disgraced prince (well, one of them, anyway, what was the nation coming to?). The boy glared up at him from a mess of a phoenix plume and a hideous grimy coat.

“I see we’ve come across not one pleasant bounty, but two,” Zhao eagerly began to his audience, “A crew of marauding pirates and a treasonous pretender both.” The prince’s glare stuck for a moment as he tried to understand what was going on but sure enough, it slipped away to a delectable look of shock and confusion as it got through his skull. Zhao made sure to keep a blank face as he laid it on.

“The fire lord will be pleased to know I disposed of the insult to Agni’s noble line. That any treasonous wretch would pretend to be the late prince Zuko-”

“Wait- what?,” Zuko choked out, but Zhao continued over him.

“-is of the gravest dispute of honor and cannot be allowed-

“Zhao, you  _ know _ it’s me!”

“-to go unpunished. I attended the prince’s funeral myself. We were rather close and it was a great loss for-”

“You lying bastard! You invited me for tea  _ how _ many times and claim you can’t even remember my face?” Zuko shouted, now at full volume, and finally Zhao acknowledged him.

“I will admit,” he said, voice only just betraying his glee, “you are quite a convincing player, certainly enough to fool these savages, and I cannot even fault my crew for mistaking you with a prince they have never met. However, I have known the prince, and you are not him. Regardless, the firelord has issued his order in regards to the likes of you. All watertribe vessels are to be sunk for their leader’s grave insult upon the Agni-blessed line of Sozin, and since you refuse to even admit your crimes, you will sink with them.” There would be no honorable criminal’s death for the boy… after all, the prince already had his funeral pyre. Zhao could barely keep his grin to a smirk. “Now, seize him and tie him with the others.”

Zhao took displeased note of which soldiers didn’t move fast enough, it simply wouldn’t do. It was almost a shame the prince would never sail again. His rust-bucket ship was quite a handy way of disposing of the dregs of the navy. Some of his more  _ ponderous _ subordinates would do well on a ship like the  _ Wani _ .

The prince stood numbly as several of the Admiral’s soldiers surrounded him. Zhao had considered punishing the soldier that found Zuko, but no longer. It was very rewarding to see the despair on the boy’s face as he finally got it through his thick skull. The fire nation was never good for the boy. It was for the best, really. Zhao watched as the prince was tossed, head hanging, towards the center of the deck.

The admiral took one final look at the pathetic child and his disgraceful consorts, no longer bothering to hide his smile. He gave the order.

Finally, he retreated to his office. His captains would direct their ships a reasonable distance away while they waited for the vessel to burn. In the meantime, he had a rather complimentary letter to write to the fire lord about a job well done.

It was several degrees later when his captain knocked frantically on his door that Zhao’s face turned near purple with fury and he crumpled a still wet letter in hand.

=========

Hakoda struggled furiously as soon as the ashmakers were off his deck. The ropes tore at the skin on his wrists but fire licked at his heels. It was only after someone passed around a knife and Bato and he grabbed each others wrists back to back and he could finally grab a bucket of water that he realized the fires weren’t spreading. He called his crew to a halt and they watched as fire charred the  _ Ahklut’s _ deck but refused to catch already dried rigging or spread any further than where the soldiers had lit them.

Hakoda stepped in front of their firebender, still kneeling and curled over his knees, hands tied behind his back. The fires curled on deck flared, stilled, and guttered more erratically with the boy’s hitching lungs.

“Prince Zuko.”

Zuko flinched upright, neck snapping in Hakoda’s direction but with horrible eyes filled with fire. His skin was deathly pale and his scar stood out like rot. The chief kneeled on the deck in front of Zuko, mirroring his seiza. This helped something, evidently. The prince’s eyes drifted down to earth again and focused on Hakoda.

“Zuko, can you put out the fires?”

The boy nodded slightly and his eyes unfocused again, but this time in focus. The fires stilled unnaturally before shrinking slightly. Only slightly, before they stopped and flared again.

Hakoda glanced at Zuko questioningly but the boy spoke before he could.

“Can’t… You can’t put them out. Zhao will know. He’ll finish it.” Zuko was staring into Hakoda’s eyes now, spine straightening even if his shoulders still hunched inwards and he looked to have missed a thousand nights’ sleep. “I… I can make it look like we’re still burning,” he finished. 

Hakoda nodded. “That’d be a great help, Zuko,” he said evenly, greatly understating his relief at Zuko’s quick thinking, “We just need to get sailing again. Any time you can buy us without the admiral noticing is good. If you need to stop, say something and we'll figure it out,” the prince scowled and Hakoda grinned slightly,” It’s not a break, it’s you knowing your limits so we don’t burn down for real. Whatever you need, do it. Let me take care of your wrists?” He finished. Zuko seemed present again, finally, and nodded solemnly. Instead of offering his hands, however, he simply shifted and held up a half singed, half untied length of rope. Hakoda smiled and pushed himself off the ground to give the rest of his crew orders.

(He was a chief to his crew before he was a defender of a stranger’s child soldier. This was not to say he wasn’t filled with rage at the condescension of the smarmy half-wit of a skunk-rat calling itself an admiral. That rant would be saved for Bato’s ears so his best friend could tell him if he was feeling a usual amount of contempt for hard-ass tyrants or if, maybe, just maybe, he had been missing his own children for a little  _ too _ long.)

=========

Zuko meditated. He sat where he wouldn’t be in the way and focused on keeping the fires clear of the deck and on the side of the ship and not burning anything and making it  _ look _ like the  _ Ahklut _ was burning. It was hard. It didn’t leave much room for thinking. The crew raised the sails and charted course and cleaned up from the bloody fight and… Zuko wasn’t sitting on a bloodstain was he? No, he would have noticed when he picked the spot. Right. Right? Should he look? No. Zuko shoved the intruding thought from his mind and focused on bringing the flames back down to a level of the crew’s discomfort that was not audible.

Eventually Hakoda walked up behind him and got his attention verbally before placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You can put out the fires,” he said, “either we’re far enough they won’t see us after sunset or they’ve already given chase and either way there’s no point in keeping it up.”

Zuko nodded and lowered the flames before snuffing them completely. Agni was descending over the horizon. He had meditated for barely more than he usually would have. Somehow, he did not feel as rested as he usually would.

“You did good. You saved our lives there. Thank you Zuko.”

Zuko was reasonably sure the chief wasn’t about to kill him for saving their lives (okay that was generous, they probably could have put the fires out in time). He was pretty sure the water tribe had a better honor code than that. Not that Zuko could be held to any code like that. At least he hadn’t done anything wrong this time (except be worthless and paint an even bigger target on their backs).

=========

(Hakoda wasn’t sure what more he could say. How do you go about thanking the child that saved their captors after finding out their own nation wants them dead? Probably not by showing him his father’s letters, whose words were finally fitting into place. Hakoda would keep those in his belt for now.)

=========

Hakoda returned to work and Toklo swept in through his wake to throw himself on Zuko. Panuk observed this new flailing quality to their firebender and determined his own arms were needed as well. Zuko shouted, but probably not as much as they deserved. Instead, he looked carefully over Toklo’s face and tried not to breathe in the stench of burnt hair. Toklo obliged and turned his face to the side.

“Thanks for that,” he chirped, “I really owe you one Zuko.” Zuko wasn’t quite sure what to do with his gratitude, but he’d been idle for too long already. The  _ Ahklut _ was making her escape, but her crew were hardly out of trouble. Barely half the crew was able to man the sails and all the rest were waiting for treatment from Kustaa. There were no deaths yet, but that could easily change in the next few days. As he stood to help, Panuk tossed an arm over his shoulder.

“You do good work, Water Tribe Sympathizer.”

Zuko looked at the older boy with wide eyes before glaring at his feet. Panuk just squeezed him before leaving him to his own devices. On the lower deck Kustaa had him fetch fresh water and supplies from the healer’s room. It was more practical to treat so many up on deck than filter them in a tiny room. Both beds in the healer’s room were filled already by hopefully stable crewmates.

Zuko gathered as much as he could carry and then sat on deck with a mortar and pestle. Kustaa kept one eye on him as he measured ingredients carefully. He held a prepared dish between his hands and hesitated before lighting a fire around it. Zuko glanced up at the crew mates blistering from his element. 

=========

The crew watched the prince of the fire nation help their healer to treat burned water tribe warriors.The prince attacked the task like he had any other job, like he would combust if left idle for too long.. He worked silently, head down, efficiently following Kustaa’s commands, which were notably few, until he held a bowl of medicine

(When had he learned how to make that? Did anyone else fail to realize how much the prince was helping Kustaa?).

The prince hesitated, bowl in hand, apparently ready to heat the salve, before looking up, finally. He looked around the crew, many of whom were resting now the  _ Akhlut _ had wind in her sails (With Spirits’ blessings they would be keeping the pace long enough to outpace a tail). He glanced towards Bato, who had tender hands to match a stiff shoulder. The only ones not burned in any way were Kustaa and Zuko.

(Zuko had already been burned. He’d be burned for the rest of his life, every time he saw his reflection, or just the look on strangers’ faces.

There had been too many firebenders on board the  _ Akhlut _ to avoid being burned. There were even more firebenders in Caldera city, weren’t there?)

“Kid, stay up here,” Aake said in the quiet, “I’d rather have two healers within reach, with the state we’re in.”

The Prince’s shoulders snapped straight and he flushed. “What? No, I’m not- what? I was just...”

Hakoda held back from intervening, just yet, despite Zuko’s floundering. This wasn’t his call to make. At least the prince wasn’t looking quite so miserable when he was flustered.

Tuluk spoke up, “I reckon there are worse things you can do with your bending than keep us afloat and make medicine, prince Zuko. You can stay.”

The prince looked uncertain but he looked around the faces of the crew and saw something that made his posture relax incrementally. He nodded to Tuluk and Aake. A small fire came to life around the bowl. His eyes drifted down to the medicine again and slowly, surrounded by the quiet drone of conversation and the exhaustion of drained adrenaline, the prince let his shoulders drop. He really shouldn’t feel more comfortable with his recent captors than with the officers of his own navy, Hakoda thought, but here they were.

Hakoda came out to the deck to stretch his legs after printing letter after letter to allies at his desk. The prince was staring at him with what might be considered a glare. Hakoda checked in with Tuluk and waited. Eventually the prince walked over to him like a curious pygmy-puma, and asked for a blade. Hakoda cursed himself for jinxing it.

=========

Zuko made burn salve and thought. Well, he tried to think. He was really playing the world’s most infuriating game of tag with the information in his head. Zhao wanted him dead, but the deliberate order to sink water tribe ships came from the Fire Lord and even Zhao wouldn’t fake that. His father wanted him dead. His Father. Wanted him dead. The concept kept circling in his head and dredged up memories usually reserved for nightmares, leaving him cold and his inner fire wavering like it had been bent by a gust of wind.

_ Lucky to be born _

_ He’s going to kill you, Zuzu _

_ Suffering will be your teacher. _

Zuko knew what he had to do.

When the chief came back out on deck he strengthened his resolve. Standing at the stern of the ship, Hakoda slowly gave him a knife. Kustaa watched him carefully from the lower deck.

Zuko gripped his phoenix plume and sheared. His shame felt heavy in his palm where it no longer fell upon his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be something missing to this but oh well
> 
> I tried to do the fusion dance with muffinlance's writing style to moderate success.
> 
> Fyi, this takes place between letters 1 and 2 of chapter 8 in Salvage. Really, Zhao should be preparing for his norther invasion but I figure making sure his men are "upholding the royal family's honor" is just _so_ important he had to go down south.
> 
> Regretfully, I couldn't fit in the crew lining up to punch Zhao in the face, but rest assured that is what's happening mentally with all of them.
> 
> Highlight from an earlier draft:
> 
> _It was worse because he knew Zhao was right for once in his life. (He was weak, incompetent. That why was father had-) (He should have succeeded the first time (first times) so Zuko wouldn’t keep disappointing him)_
> 
> _He started hard when someone laid a hand on his shoulder, but it was just Toklo, and his mouth was moving, and, “How did that guy become an Admiral?”_
> 
> _What?_
> 
> _“He’s a total creep,” Panuk put in, face steely, “How did he get anywhere presenting himself like that?”_
> 
> _“Nepotism,” Zuko choked._


End file.
